


Already a Dad

by Mimiwritesfic



Series: The Bapy Chronicles [1]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: (or: learning that you basically already are a dad), F/M, Fluff, If you’re here for Papa Time content then boy do I have the fic for you, It’s a bapy fic folks!!, Kid Fic, Learning to be a father, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), SO MUCH FLUFF, bapy comes in in the last moment fjhgfh, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimiwritesfic/pseuds/Mimiwritesfic
Summary: Just a fluffy little fic about Time’s struggles with coming to terms with imminent fatherhood, told through Twilight’s eyes
Relationships: Link/Malon (Legend of Zelda), Malon (Legend of Zelda)/Time (Linked Universe), Time & Twilight (Linked Universe), Time and his boys
Series: The Bapy Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820530
Comments: 29
Kudos: 322





	Already a Dad

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to the lu discord for providing support and interest through the progress of writing this! I love yall

Twilight’s senses as a wolf were, of course, highly superior to those he had in Hylian form. It was the main reason he switched so much—Hylian noses simply weren’t up to the task of all the scouting he had to do. Of course, that didn’t mean that some stuff never bled through. His hearing got better over the years, as did… _other_ intuitions. 

One day, after a particularly jarring world change that left most of their party nauseous and mildly banged-up from landing, it ended up being Time who recognized the area. Not only that, but he recognized it as a mere ten-minute walk away from Lon Lon Ranch—and his wife. 

“Thank Hylia, we won’t have to sleep on a forest floor for the tenth night in a row,” groaned Warriors, readjusting his ever-present scarf for the third time in as many minutes. “Wild, I’m sorry, but your Hyrule is too full of empty wilderness.”

 _“I’m_ sorry, where do you think I got the title from?”

Twilight chose to walk with Time to avoid the ensuing squabble, effortlessly keeping pace with his mentor’s long strides. “Happy to be home?”

“You can’t imagine,” said Time, making the blissful face he only ever made when Malon was the topic of conversation. “There should be some new foals by now, apparently…”

The conversation continued in that manner until the ranch finally came into view. Malon was there to greet them moments later (though slightly sidetracked by Time sweeping her up into his arms) and she was as bright and welcoming as she ever was to every bearer of the Hero’s Spirit. Still, Twilight couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… different. 

_She’s not hurt,_ he thought, keeping Malon in sight through as much of the afternoon as he could. She did move carefully, but it didn’t seem to be out of pain. 

_I don’t smell sickness, either…_

“Wild, dearie, do you mind doing the garlic? The smell isn’t my favorite right now,” said Malon, her thick skirts swishing around her ankles and she bustled through the kitchen. Wild willingly accepted his chores (though not before slapping Wind’s hand away from the apple slices waiting to be made into pie filling) and Twilight was left to awkwardly try and look busy. 

_Could she be hiding some surprise? Is Time’s birthday coming up?_

That was plausible. Twilight wasn’t actually sure when the old man’s birthday was, so it could definitely be soon. Malon probably would have enlisted him or another hero in the surprise, though, knowing her… 

“Twilight, are you alright?”

Twilight blinked and refocused, finding Malon right in front of him. He’d gotten too caught up in speculation to keep track of movement around him. “Er, yes—do you need my help?”

“Oh, not at all,” said Malon. “Li—Time’s out back chopping wood, if you’re looking for something to occupy yourself.”

She lovingly patted his cheek, leaving behind a bit of flour, and went back into the kitchen. Twilight saw no way to remain standing sentry without suspicion and simply went out back to help Time, puzzling the whole way about the _strangeness_ his senses kept giving him. 

“Time, when’s your birthday?”

“In all honesty? I don’t know the actual date. We usually celebrate around midsummer.”

_It’s spring…_

Dinner was more or less dominated by Wind “accidentally” coming a little too close to starting a food fight with Legend, but at least the food was good and no actual blows were thrown. It was nice to have a meal that wasn’t full of glancing behind his back into dark trees for once. In the end, every hero was too tired to do more than lay out bedrolls in their chosen spots and have an early bedtime—except for Twilight, who laid there sleepless for longer than he cared to keep track of. 

Then Wild spoke up—and unlike his usual late-night group questions, like “If you put poison in a red potion, would it kill you or heal you?”—he said something that made a bit of sense. “Did anyone else notice Malon acting funny?”

Legend made a noise, likely about to tell Wild to shut up and go to sleep, but Four cut him off. “A little. The steak didn’t taste strange to me, but she acted like it was Hyrule’s cooking.”

“Hey!”

“Shh!”

“It does seem odd,” said Warriors, ignoring Legend’s shushing. “Time didn’t look worried, though, so I’m sure nothing’s wrong. But-“

Legend took retribution for the noise by squashing Warriors in the face with a pillow, which quickly ended any conversation. Only Twilight (to his knowledge) remained sleepless after that, staring up at the ceiling. Where had he seen Malon’s behaviors before? And why were his advanced senses going off like warning bells? Surely Time would have been more worried if she was ill, he seemed to have a sixth sense for that. 

Then it hit Twilight and he groaned aloud, clapping a hand to his forehead and earning a tossed throw pillow from Legend. _Uli. She used to act like that when she was pregnant._

The next revelation hit Twilight even harder, but he refrained from reacting audibly just in case Legend had something sharper than a pillow. All he could think of was Midna on his journey, teasingly throwing out “fun” facts about wolves—including the fact that they _always_ knew when a pack member was expecting. Figuring that out about Malon even before Time did was wild enough, but… 

_That’s my ancestor. My great-times-Hylia-knows grandmother, or grandfather, and I’m_ here.

The thought kept him awake for hours that night, and the last thing to cross Twilight’s mind before he finally slipped into sleep was the thought, _I wonder what their name will be._

—

The next morning, Twilight said not a word about his realization—not when everyone woke up and Warriors teased him for the bags under his eyes, not during breakfast when Malon picked at her food and finished only a glass of water and small bowl of oatmeal, and not when Wind started pestering him about whatever caused “the scrunchy face” during morning chores. Not once did he say a word about it, not at all during the three days they ended up staying. 

On the third day, each hero started to feel that pull again—the odd, indescribable tugging sensation that meant Duty and Questing and most of all, leaving home. Another portal awaited, another Hylia-knew-how-long without returning to the ranch. Time told Malon about it over breakfast, and through his words were even, Twilight saw the slight tremble in his hand. 

“Oh, dear, I understand,” said Malon, covering Time’s hand with her own smaller ones and running her thumb along his. The gesture was so sweet that Twilight swore he felt his heart grow a size or two, and judging from the expressions on his brothers’ faces, they felt it too. “There’s just something I should mention before you go. Talk to me before you all leave—and don’t think you’re leaving this house without food from me, got it?”

 _“More food?_ Yes ma’am!” Wind was out of his seat with his plate before anyone could react, effectively stopping Time from questioning his wife. Twilight could almost _feel_ himself vibrating in anticipation, like tremors in his very bones. Did this count as witnessing history? Surely the child of the Hero of Time—ancestor to yet another Hero of Courage—counted as something momentous?

 _Either way,_ Twilight decided, absent-mindedly clearing his plate. _Even if this kid_ was _just the child of two ranchers, this still counts._

He wasn’t entirely sure how much time passed between the end of breakfast and standing outside Time and Malon’s front door with the others waiting for the old man to come out, but Twilight did know that he still hadn’t said a word while he packed and walked out. Wind blatantly had his ear pressed to the thick oaken door, and Twilight was sure Warriors would have stopped him had the Captain not been doing the same thing. 

(The others politely pretended to not be straining their ears). 

Of course, they heard nothing, and two minutes later Time came out with an inscrutable look on his face.

“What happened?” Wind immediately latched onto the old man’s arm, giving him the biggest puppy-dog eyes Twilight had ever seen. “Is something wrong, or is it something good? Come on, old man, tell us!”

“Nothing’s wrong,” said Time, carefully peeling Wind’s arms from his bicep. Twilight caught the edge of his mouth twitching despite Time’s obvious effort to stay neutral-faced, and knew the old man was refusing to look up from the ground for a reason. “No harm done. Come on, we need to get moving.”

Time led them off the ranch’s property without incident despite the pestering of several Links (most notably Wind). Twilight still said nothing—that is, until he caught an elbow to the ribs and a meaningful look from Warriors. 

“Time’ll crack for you,” he hissed. “Come on, aren’t you curious?”

Twilight caved. “Come on, old man. I _know_ you just wanna be cryptic, but you’ve had your fun.”

Time stopped, letting the rest halt in their tracks around him. Then he finally looked up to face the group and _smiled,_ a real, joyful smile that almost looked out of place on Time’s features. Four actually took a step backwards—right into Wild, who was stuck staring with his jaw open. 

“I’m gonna be a father, is all,” said Time, almost nonchalantly—but the smile never left his face.

A collective “WHAT?” split the air a millisecond later and Time was suddenly obscured by a whirlwind of gleeful, heartfelt congratulations (Sky, Four), several backslaps (Warriors, Twilight, an enthusiastic Wind), and tackle-hugs (Wild, Hyrule). Legend avoided the hubbub with a single “congratulations”, a contemplative look on his face.

“What’s with you?” Twilight asked him, stepping aside to allow Wind to join the tackle-huggers.

“Doing some… mental math,” said Legend, squinting at nothing. “I—ow!”

“Don’t be crass,” said Twilight sternly, retracting his hand. 

“Like you didn’t think of it!”

Twilight sighed heavily and let Legend be. He had to congratulate Time, after all, and had also admittedly considered that exact math (briefly. Very, _very_ briefly). 

Typical marching order put Twilight next to Time and relatively apart from anyone within earshot of quiet conversation, so Twilight wasn’t surprised when his mentor waited until that point to say something. 

“You didn’t seem surprised,” said Time lightly. He still had a faint grin on his lips, and Twilight doubted it would leave anytime soon. 

“I guessed already,” admitted Twilight. “Call it a… sixth sense.”

He tapped his shirt over where the shadow crystal rested between chainmail and tunic and Time instantly understood, chuckling. “And you said nothing. Of _course_ you didn’t. I’ve taught you well.”

_I’ve taught you well._

In an instant, Twilight remembered the destiny of the man now jokingly deflecting questions about baby names from Sky. He faltered in his step, ignoring the questioning glance Time sent his way, and flashed back to ivy-covered armor over the face of a skull. 

Or, more accurately, a skull _mask._

Suddenly ill, Twilight swallowed and checked out of the conversation, unwillingly remembering the years he’d spent theorizing about the Shade. A restless ghost who wished to pass down his skills to his descendants, unable to pass on without doing so. 

_Why couldn’t he do that in life?_

Now that he knew the man behind the armor, Twilight didn’t want to theorize anymore. 

—

“I was a _terror._ Worse than Wild! Just ask Warriors about the time he ticked me off during the War of Eras!”

“Which one, the Deku nuts in my pillowcase, the Stone Mask prank, the-“

“Yes! Both! All of them! _What if it’s genetic?”_

Twilight, bewildered, watched Time yank a pillow over his own face and groan loudly. The _one_ time they were able to find an inn, and he returned from dinner to his mentor having a crisis while Warriors and Four awkwardly tried to console him. 

_I’m going to regret the straws I drew for sharing a room…_

“Twilight, tell Time that the kid won’t drive him and Malon up the wall just by proxy of being his,” said Four in a perfect deadpan. He was the first to notice Twilight’s return, and the only one to verbally acknowledge it—Warriors was busy with the still-ranting Time. 

“And Malon! She can lift entire _cows!_ I love her even more for that, of course, but _she did that when we were kids,_ you should see her now… we’re doomed.”

“Time, I think you’re spinning things out of proportion,” said Warriors tiredly. “Could you at least have this crisis in the morning, we’ve got a lot of walking to—hey!” 

Twilight had reached out to flick his ear for the lack of tact, a mission he ignored the fallout from as soon as he had completed it. “Time, it’ll be okay. Kids don’t turn out like that just because their parents were terrible at that age.”

“And you’ve seen how many kids are in his hometown,” said Four, shooting Twilight a grateful look and the scheming Warriors a threatening one. “He’d know. Think you’re good for tonight?”

Time didn’t say anything or remove the pillow from over his face, but he did sigh heavily and give them all a thumbs-up. Twilight took that as a good sign and returned to getting ready for bed, but almost as soon as he had made it down the hall and to the washroom, he felt a tug on his loose sleeve.

“We’re gonna keep making short jokes if that’s how you get people’s attention,” he told Four, who scowled.

“Careful. I’m at kneecap-shattering height,” he said, keeping his voice low and the quirk of his lips suppressed. “I’m not here for bad jokes.”

“The old man?” Twilight guessed, which earned him a nod. 

“I’m pretty sure he’s not just having regular jitters,” said Four. “Before you walked in, he muttered something about destiny and bloodlines—then Warriors mentioned whatever a “spinner fight” is and Time went on a tangent about _that,_ but…”

“You want me to talk to him?”

“I figured it would help to point out that he’s not doing so good.”

Twilight sighed. There it was again—none of the others knew his true relation to Time, but they certainly picked up on _something,_ and that something meant he ended up being the go-to for anything to do with the old man. Not that he minded, but still… “I’ll talk to him in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan. Night, Twi.”

“Goodnight.”

But it wasn’t in the _morning_ when Twilight rolled over in his own bed and saw that no one occupied Time’s. It was far closer to midnight, so _nearly_ morning—and Twilight knew Time wasn’t the type to just get up for no reason at unholy hours, so he blearily tugged on his boots and overshirt and went to find his mentor. 

Time turned out to be on the dinky balcony outside their room, absentmindedly fiddling with the ailing fern which trailed down the railing. His ear twitched when Twilight stepped outside, but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge his new company until Twilight leaned on the rail to his left. 

“And I thought Wild was the night owl,” remarked Twilight, hoping to break the ice. 

“Mm. I’m a multifaceted man, you know,” said Time without a hint of inflection. “You should be asleep.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Fair.”

Twilight watched the stars glitter above them in silence long enough for the moon to creep several inches across the sky. “I know you’re stressed out for Malon, but is there something else…?”

Time didn’t speak right away. Instead, he plucked a leaf from the fern and twirled it between his fingers, focused on it with the intensity he normally put into battle. “You survive.”

“I… survive?” Privately, Twilight wondered if the late hour was making Time a little loopy. 

“Your quest,” clarified Time. “You survived everything destiny threw at you, and believe me, I’m proud.”

More leaf-twisting. Twilight could see that there were more words coming, so he stayed quiet. 

“You only went through all that because destiny called. Fate looked at you and saw _my_ bloodline and thought, here’s the kid I’ll make fight. Here’s the kid who will risk his own life for Hyrule. _You_ survived, but I just… I don’t…”

“You’re scared your child will end up in the same position,” Twilight realized. 

“I’d pray otherwise, but we both know the Goddesses won’t listen,” said Time bitterly. 

Twilight considered his words for a long, silent moment. “There’s… no legend of a hero around your era, in my Hyrule. We still have scraps about someone I’m pretty sure is Sky, and maybe Four if what my Zelda showed me about history is accurate, but not you.”

Time finally halted in his attempt to roll up every single fern leaf and looked over at Twilight. “None?”

“Not you, and not anyone immediately after you,” said Twilight. “I’m just a country boy, true—I don’t have access to every single record. But if it helps…”

“It… it does, actually,” said Time slowly. He opened his hand and let the plucked leaves fall, then gently clapped a hand to Twilight’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, old man.”

—

The third time Twilight caught himself yawning in as many minutes, he finally decided to actually wake the next Link up for watch and get some sleep. He still did one more cursory circle around the campsite—he didn’t really feel like shifting back to Hylian form just yet, and maybe Wind or someone else had had a nightmare and needed hugs. Upon his return and subsequent waking of Wild for watch, however, Twilight found that someone else had taken his job. 

“Not a word,” said Time, his voice barely audible even to Twilight’s enhanced hearing. The effect of his warning glare was somewhat dampened by Wind’s snores as he used the old man’s stomach as a pillow. To make matters worse—better? Funnier?—Legend seemed to have rolled over in his sleep and latched onto Time’s arm like a lifeline, his face oddly peaceful for being squished into someone’s bicep. 

Laughing as a wolf was difficult, but Twilight managed to do it quietly. He padded over to where Time was awkwardly laid out, snagging Wind’s kicked-away blanket as he went and dragging it up and over the little pirate. Time caught the look in his eye.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, but Twilight was already flopping over next to Wind and trapping Time further (only his legs remained unencumbered, for all the good it did). He gave his mentor a special wolf grin, which earned him a Look—the type of Look that very clearly meant _“you are very lucky I can’t let these boys wake up”._

Twilight whuffed at him and laid his head down, ready for sleep. He decided not to react when Time’s hand rested over his ruff, gently carding through the thick fur there. He’d move at some point. There was still the matter of switching back to Hylian form before anyone saw… but it was warm snuggled up to both Time and Wind, and it had been a long night. 

Twilight let his breaths deepen and his mind slip into unconsciousness, falling into dreamless sleep. 

_“Shh,_ don’t wake them!”

“I can’t believe the only time our Vet shows affection is in his sleep.”

“Don’t be mean, Warriors-“

 _“I said shh,_ I’m trying to get a good picture!”

Twilight cracked one eye open groggily, noting that he’d moved in his sleep to cover most of Time’s chest and Wind had managed to latch on to his neck sometime overnight. Giggling registered in his ears and he lurched upwards—just in time to spot Wild putting his Sheikah Slate away. 

_Absolutely not_ and _oh, Hylia it’s already morning_ ran through Twilight’s head in an instant. He leapt to his feet, ignoring Wind’s sleepy protests, Legend’s unconscious scowl, and Time’s grunt, and sprinted off into the trees before anyone could wonder why the _wolf_ was present instead of him. 

Wild was already in his face when he returned with an ignored excuse, brandishing the Sheikah Slate. “Twi, you gotta see this, it’s my _best picture yet-“_

Admittedly, Wild was good with camera angles, but Twilight still elbowed him in retribution. _You_ know _I’m the wolf, you little gremlin._

So did Legend, but he was too busy outright hissing at anyone who tried to bring up the incident to connect the dots. Wind just shrugged it off and asked Wild if he could try transferring the picture to his own pictobox. As for Time… actually, Twilight couldn’t tell what Time was thinking, as always. He humored the laughter and complimented Wild on his photography skills, but said nothing else. 

Twilight could only think of when he was very little, insisting on staying up late like the adults only to fall asleep using Rusl as a pillow. He would wake up in his own bed, and Rusl would never acknowledge it unless Twilight did first. Those were sweet memories—not ones he ever expected to dredge up on _this_ quest, but he wouldn’t complain.

—

Twilight flopped down onto the ground, gratefully accepting the canteen Wind held out to him and downing half of the water within in one go. 

“I’ll give it to you,” he drawled at Warriors, wiping his mouth, “you’re not too bad.”

 _“You_ just don’t want to admit I had you beat before you _tackled_ me.”

“Hey, it was no holds barred! You _suggested_ that rule, no complaints,” said Twilight defensively. Warriors sighed heavily and sheathed his sword, the red sparks of Hyrule’s shielding magic dissipating as he went to grab his own water.

“I can do one more spar if anyone’s up for it,” said Hyrule as the magic faded from his hands. “This is good shielding practice!”

“Dibs!” Wild shot to his feet, but he seemed to be the only one of them who was so enthusiastic. 

Wind made a tired noise from where he was sprawled out on his bedroll and stuck his hand into the air, making a clumsy thumbs-down. Four sympathetically patted his shoulder and shook his own head. The rest—all in varying stages of exhaustion from a long day and the past hour of sparring—responded in similar manners.

“Sorry, cub,” said Twilight, when the puppy-dog eyes turned on him next. “I’m beat. But there _is_ someone who hasn’t sparred yet…”

Time glanced up from tending to one of his smaller blades. “I’m not as young as you boys anym-“

“Please?” Wild cut in. “Come on, I was on a roll!”

Time looked at Wild, then at Twilight, then back to Wild. Then he sighed heavily and stood, picking up his Biggoron sword as he went. “Alright. Don’t get too upset when I win.”

Laughter and teasing shouts went up around the clearing and Twilight noted the slight grin on Time’s face with anticipation—Time _never_ asked anyone to spar or agreed to any requests. Wild’s puppy-dog eyes must have gotten to him. _This should be interesting._

“Don’t kill him,” Twilight murmured to Time, keeping his voice deliberately low while he watched Wild try to pick a sword that wouldn’t shatter instantly next to Hyrule, who had his shielding spell at the ready.

“I won’t,” said Time lightly. He and Wild moved into the center of the clearing not long later, checking the distance they stood apart and waiting for Hyrule to pronounce his spell ready. Twilight kept an eye on Wild—there was a look in his cub’s eyes that said _trouble._

“Alright, ready,” said Hyrule, letting his shield flow over both combatants—Warriors’ idea initially, so that they didn’t have to hold back as much or use inferior weapons. “Three!”

Wild squared his stance.

“Two!”

Time shifted his grip.

“One—go!”

And suddenly the blur of metal and cloth began, almost too fast for Twilight to track. 

“Time insists he’s too old and then pulls _this,”_ muttered Legend, snorting. Twilight was too busy watching the intricate flash of blades to respond, unable to determine so early on who would win. 

Time fought using overpowering strikes and slashes, aiming to incapacitate his opponent before they could do anything, but Wild’s sheer dodging speed eluded each swing of the Biggoron sword. Wild had no shield, but he made moves suggesting he was too used to relying on one—Twilight could already tell that Time intended to take advantage of the next slipup. 

Wild, however, _also_ clearly had a plan. Twilight could see it in the angled grin on his face, in the precision with which he sidestepped Time’s attacks. Something changed in what Twilight could see of his face not long after and-

Warriors choked on his water when Wild _backflipped_ right over one of Time’s wide slashes, surprising everyone watching with the show of acrobatics.

Twilight blinked.

And Time was flat on the ground, disarmed by a grinning Wild. Twilight never even saw his cub’s boots hit the dirt. 

“HOW?” blurted Warriors, shattering the stunned silence as Time sat up with a shocked look on his face. Wild grinned, helping Time stand and returning the Biggoron sword as he did, his face red from exertion.

“I haven’t done that in ages,” he said breathlessly. “I—Time, your _face,_ I can’t-“

Wild dissolved into laughter which was, admittedly, understandable—only respect for Time’s dignity (and the fact that everyone else was just about cackling) kept Twilight from outright laughing at the look of pure bafflement on the old man’s normally-stern features. It just seemed so out of place that Twilight _couldn’t_ stifle his snort. 

“I didn’t even process that you had moved until I was on the ground,” he admitted, clearly impressed. “Good job. But, in all seriousness, what in _Nayru’s_ name was that?”

“Flurry rush. Normally, it’s a bunch of super-fast stabs, but I didn’t want to test Hyrule’s shield _that_ much, so I just disarmed you,” said Wild, shrugging. He had to brace himself on his knees a moment later, catching his breath with a wide grin. “I move _really_ fast—or maybe time slows down, I’ve never been sure-“

“Time _definitely_ got slow,” joked Legend, which—predictably—caused a flurry of time-based puns (much to the actual hero’s chagrin, if his groan meant anything).

“I get it, I get it,” said Time eventually, stemming the tide with a single wave of his hand. “Winner gets to pick dinner.”

“That’s not even a _real_ prize, I do that every night-“

(Later, though, Twilight spotted Time clapping Wild on the shoulder with a proud gleam in his eye—and whatever he said made Wild light up like the sun, responding to the praise the way a forgotten flower responds to fresh water).

—

Anyone could see that Time was starting to get more than a little antsy as the months crept by, even as they got closer and closer to their goal (hopefully). He rarely relaxed, rarely took less than two watch shifts (even when they all voted him out of being eligible, he stayed awake regardless) and worst of all, he _hovered._ Twilight accidentally cut his finger while sharpening his blade once and hadn’t even _blinked_ before Time was there with a bandage—appreciated, but also slightly terrifying.

“I know he’s worried, but he wasn’t _this_ neurotic even just two weeks ago,” muttered Legend, flopping down next to Twilight on a fallen log with his dinner—though not before meticulously clearing the snow from that area. Twilight was too busy eating to make a crack at him for not wearing pants, but he would later. 

“We’re getting pretty close to nine months total,” Warriors murmured, keeping his voice just low enough for Legend and Twilight (who was regretting his placement sandwiched between his fellow heroes) to hear. “Malon was what, two months along when we last saw her? It’s been a while. The old man’s taking out all his about-to-be-a-father energy on us.”

Twilight remembered the way Time had slung a caffeine-obsessed Four under one arm to prevent him from drinking too much only days before, or how he had physically pulled Wild back from attempting a risky glider trick the previous morning the way a mama cat grabs her kittens—by the back of his cloak. “That’s probably what’s happening. You should have seen Rusl when Uli was almost due…”

Rustling caught Twilight’s attention and he checked across the fire to find Wind, who was patting down his pockets with a frown. His long-since-scraped-clean bowl lay abandoned in the snow while Wind started digging through his bag with an even deeper frown. He’d lost something, clearly, but what? 

Time went still, scanning the ground around him, and reached down next to Wind. 

“Missing this, Sailor?” Time held out a fallen telescope, which Wind had somehow dropped into a snowdrift without noticing. It almost seemed to disappear from his hand when Wind noticed the little device.

“I thought I lost it! There’s a new hole in my bag,” he explained, grinning as he checked the condition of his precious telescope. “Thanks, Dad.”

Time froze. So did Wind. Had Twilight been able to read minds, he was sure he’d get precisely the same _“Hylia, let me die”_ from both minds across the fire.

Unfortunately for the both of them, Wind had managed to speak just as a natural lull of silence spread over the camp. His words carried _very_ well in the still, chill evening.

It was Legend who broke the silence by laughing so hard he nearly fell over, which earned him an impressive death glare from Wind. “That’s a little fast, huh? The baby’s not even born yet!”

Wind groaned and settled for burying his face in his shirt to avoid the snickers and sideways glances. Time appeared to still be processing, but he did manage to give the louder troublemakers a _look_ and place a comforting hand on Wind’s shoulder. 

“If you, er, need to talk-“ 

Wind stood up almost faster than Twilight could track, turning red right up to his ears. “No! Nope, I’m—I’m good. We need more firewood! I’ll be right back!”

“I’ll just… keep an eye on him,” said Twilight after a moment, getting up to leave. 

“No, I got it,” said Time, getting to his feet smoothly and leaving the clearing less-than-smoothly. Soon, his trail of footprints in the snow disappeared after Wind’s.

A beat of silence passed around the fire which each hero gave the others sidelong glances, unsure how to continue. 

Then Legend snorted again and the campsite dissolved into laughter. 

“You’re—you’re being—a little mean,” Sky managed, barely catching his breath through the laughing fit. “Be honest, if Wind hadn’t slipped up and said it, one of the rest of us would have!”

Twilight nodded, conceding with some embarrassment. He’d been roughly two seconds away from making Wind’s very slip of the tongue several times during their quest—and if the looks on some of the others’ faces were honest, so had they. 

“Makes me wonder why he’s so worried about being a dad,” said Four, examining his nearly-empty bowl contemplatively. 

“What do you mean?” said Sky, tilting his head. 

“It’s not obvious?”

Twilight had a sneaking suspicion he knew _exactly_ what Four meant, but he kept quiet.

“He basically _is_ the dad in this group already. I’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made me lay off smithing and take care of myself,” continued Four, waving his spoon in the air as he talked. “Come on, think about it.”

“Remember when I mentioned forgetting my knight’s training?” Wild said, nodding along with Four. “He taught me new sword forms so I wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“I don’t really have anything to compare it to,” said Hyrule softly, “but… I know I look up to him. Dads are caretakers, right? Time definitely does that. He’s kind.”

“He _did_ laugh at my hair,” Legend grumbled, though his face softened a moment later. “But… he didn’t push it, either. Unlike _some_ of you.”

“That was _very_ much a dad laugh,” said Warriors, letting the jibe slide for once. “It’s weird. I knew him as a kid—and he’s _still_ a gremlin—but I gotta admit, he’s really the perfect candidate.”

“At least he’s getting practice from dealing with us,” said Four. “Or, really, Wild. If you can corral Mr. Arsonist over here-“

“Hyrule lights things on fire too!”

“-a baby is no issue, even a child of a woman who can lift cows and a guy who apparently fought the moon.”

Warriors snorted. “Good point—but maybe he’s just nervous because it’s _his_ kid, not a bunch of unrelated heroes who fell through a hole in between eras and got stuck with him.”

And suddenly, Twilight had a thought. Could he say it? Could he tell them? It had been _his_ idea, after all, to keep the bloodline thing on the down-low. Time simply never mentioned it, leaving it all up to Twilight—who chose not to say anything.

 _I liked having that one-on-one relationship just with us,_ Twilight realized with a pang. _Selfish. Now I really_ do _have to tell them._

“I…” he began, but the words stuck in his throat when six pairs of eyes turned his way. Twilight coughed and steeled himself. “Well, not _all_ of us fall into the _‘unrelated_ heroes’ category.”

A beat.

“You’re not serious,” said Four, the first to catch on. Warriors proceeded to choke on his food—the second to catch on.

 _“You’re Time’s descendant?”_ There was Sky, his jaw hung open. 

“Yep.”

“No way!” said Wild, his grin nearabout splitting his face in two. “How’d you even know? There’s _got_ to be at least a few centuries between your eras.”

_Armor that hadn’t rotted away yet, an eye already missing, a skull mask that shot fear and grief in equal measures into his heart._

“Family resemblance. Time figured it out first,” said Twilight, shrugging. 

“That explains _so_ much,” said Warriors, finally clearing his windpipe. “You two even have the same laugh—oh, Hylia. _Malon._ You got that ridiculous farmer strength from her!”

“I-“

But Twilight couldn’t protest, as they had all started laughing again—but he hardly minded, even when Time returned with a still-clearly-embarrassed Wind in tow and looked more than a little confused. 

“You all don’t need to laugh _quite_ so hard,” said Time reprovingly.

“Okay, _Pops,”_ joked Wild, which made Time short-circuit (Wind, on the other hand, relaxed significantly when he realized they weren’t going to make fun of him). “How come _you_ didn’t say anything about you and Twi being related?”

Time glanced at Twilight, who coughed awkwardly. “I, uh, decided they might as well know.”

“It was up to him,” said Time evenly. “And, if you’re going to _insist_ on running with this joke, so will I. You’re all grounded.”

A chorus of laughter and joking, drawn-out “Noooo”s went up around the fire, but Time was wearing his carefully-curated Neutral Face. Twilight couldn’t help but wonder if he was joking or not. 

“You all heard me,” said Time, with a telltale glint in his eye. A precious couple seconds of indecision passed. 

Then-

“REVOLUTION!” Wind cried, snatching the closest bedroll (Legend’s) and swinging it at Time, who caught it easily. The next projectile was a snowball from Four—but Time dodged, and it raced almost in slow motion to hit Legend square in the face. 

Four immediately ducked behind Sky while everyone waited for the aftermath. 

“Ugh,” said Legend, wiping the snow from his face. Twilight half expected him to start yelling—he _didn’t_ expect Legend to stand up quick as a snake and whip a hastily-made snowball in Four’s direction. Unfortunately, it hit Sky, and Wild immediately declared revenge, which meant Twilight had to be on his side, so naturally Warriors joined Legend, and Wind joined Warriors, and soon there was a full-on snowball war being waged using the trees as cover. 

“Twilight!” Hyrule yelped, diving for cover next to him and Time. “What’s going on? I didn’t know you could do this with snow!”

“You didn’t?” said Time, speaking before Twilight (who was busy trying to get a good angle on Warriors anyway) could. “Here, I’ll show you—you take a handful like this and squish it into a ball…”

Twilight noted the gleam in his mentor’s eye and said a silent prayer for Hyrule. 

“Then you wind up and throw like _this,”_ said Time, making sure Hyrule was paying attention. He stood and whipped the snowball straight at Warriors, taking Twilight’s shot—not that it was really a loss, since Warriors overbalanced into a snowdrift.

“HEY!”

“And then you duck!”

Time took cover, as did Twilight—but Hyrule remained standing, confused, and got hit in the chest with Warriors’ retribution.

“You _planned_ that,” said Twilight, snickering and helping Hyrule make a new snowball.

“Maybe,” said Time, shrugging. “You’ll never know.”

A second later he was hit in the side of the head by a snowball from Wind and went back to the battle. Twilight laughed, noting that the endless restlessness from Time hadn’t _disappeared,_ exactly, but it certainly had faded for the moment. 

_Nothing like beaning your teammates in the face with snow to calm down,_ he reflected, roughly two seconds before Wild missed Legend and sent a slushy snowball directly into Twilight’s chest. _That_ put an end to Twilight’s musing—it was revenge time. 

—

When the newest portal dumped their party right in the middle of Lon Lon Ranch’s biggest pasture on a dusky evening, Twilight had a sneaking suspicion he knew _precisely_ what sort of divine intervention had caused their timing. After all, even accounting for the strange ways days and weeks seemed to pass in their homes while each Link was away, it had been just about… seven or eight months, if Twilight’s math was right. Malon had already been expecting the last time they were at the ranch… 

(Legend had also clearly done the same math, and made meaningful eye contact with Twilight while the others gathered themselves up from the rough landing and started looking for the right way to the actual farmhouse). 

Time made it to the door first and went to push it open, but a burly, mustachioed man pulled it open from the inside before he could, instantly sputtering when he recognized Time. 

“Link! My boy, you’ve got here just in time—are these your companions?—NEVER MIND THAT, we’ve got a situation-“

“Talon, slow down-“

But the man—Talon—cut him off, dabbing at his own face with a well-loved handkerchief. “No! I’ve got to go get the midwife, son, no time to slow down!”

Twilight wasn’t sure if he loved or hated being right. 

The next few minutes were a blur of everyone realizing what that meant—culminating in Sky passing out as the first reaction, which… was less than ideal. Warriors caught him, grumbling about “weak men”, and next thing Twilight knew he was being bundled inside and dizzily watching the flurry of motion around him. 

Time disappeared completely from sight, just about _teleporting_ up the stairs to his wife. Four ended up dispatched with Talon (Malon’s father, apparently, and Twilight had some questions about naming conventions in their family). Warriors took over Sky duty (though, despite his earlier grumbling, he _also_ looked a bit pale—and when a low cry of pain echoed from upstairs, Warriors sat down pretty quickly and left Legend to do _his_ job). Wild commandeered the kitchen (“I have ingredients for hearty elixirs, they help with pain!”) with a surprisingly-unfazed Wind as deputy. Hyrule had disappeared along with Time, ushered upstairs for his healing magic—which left Twilight without a job. 

That is, until a very harried-looking Hyrule reappeared, instantly catching everyone’s attention and assembling the conscious ones in the dining room.

“Good news and less-good news,” he managed, twisting the end of his tunic between the fingers of his right hand as he spoke. “Good news is the middlewife-“

“Midwife, ‘Rule,” corrected Twilight automatically.

“Right, sorry, her—she’s close by and shouldn’t be more than half an hour. Malon’s doing okay so far. _Less_ good news-“ Hyrule swallowed. “Baby’s coming _now._ Whoever’s in there _really_ doesn’t want to wait.”

“Isn’t that _early?”_ Wild hissed to Legend, and Twilight shot him a look. 

“We can hold down the fort,” he said, keeping his voice steady and level for the sake of Hyrule’s clear approaching panic. “Can you do anything magic-wise in the meantime?”

“You’ve _seen_ my home, not a lot of childbirth going on there,” said Hyrule, the weak attempt at humor falling flat. “But I _do_ know what I’m doing.”

“Good. Then do that,” said Twilight. Another cry of pain reached his ears and he winced along with everyone else in the now-cramped dining room. “Soon. Wild, that elixir-“

“Stewing now. Two minutes, tops.”

“Good. Everybody else… just keep yourselves busy, but not _too_ busy in case Time or Malon needs something. Got it?”

The flurry started up again with Twilight on the edge, but as he watched Hyrule disappear back up the stairs, he suddenly realized exactly what sort of job was needed. 

Wind was easy to check up on—he only shrugged when asked if he needed anything. “I remember when Aryll was born, even if you guys keep forgetting I’m an older brother. This is fine. You should ask Wars if he’s okay, though, because he looks kinda green.”

Warriors only groaned when asked, and Sky groggily sat up once only to flop right back over when another cry of pain echoed from upstairs, so Twilight chose to leave them alone.

“I’m just—focusing on cooking,” said Wild awkwardly when asked. He got a quick hug when he was done ladling out his hearty elixir. 

Legend, the last available Link for Twilight to worry at, ended up being on the front porch, hunched over on the step while cradling something small between his hands. His ear twitched when Twilight opened the door, but the only move he made was to conceal the object—something small and pink. A flower?

“Need anything?” Twilight asked, closing the front door. 

“Eh,” said Legend noncommittally. “Just… thinking. You can go back inside.”

Twilight didn’t go back inside. Rather, he sat on the same step as Legend, just an arm’s length away. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you in the past week. You’re… off.”

“Hardly.”

“Upset?”

“No, I’m happy for Time,” said Legend. “He’s got a lovely, idyllic marriage, and I’m sure his kid—or kids—will be _perfectly_ happy. This is that kind of place. Happy.”

Twilight got a better look at the object in Legend’s hands, which was indeed a delicate dried flower. He didn’t recognize the type, but it looked tropical to him, like something he might find on one of Wind’s islands. Legend held the dried-out flower reverently, as if it were made of gold and jewels, like it was a lifeline and he would drown without it. 

It looked like the memento one might get from a lover.

“Remember the bunny incident?” he tried, careful not to push too hard lest he scare Legend away.

“Hylia, how could I forget?” said Legend bitterly, briefly reaching one hand up to finger the ends of his bangs—still faintly pink. 

“You mentioned a girl.”

At that, Legend stopped staring at his hands and glanced up at Twilight. “You’re not gonna leave until I open up, are you?”

“I’ll leave if you really want me to,” said Twilight. “Just tell me if I should.”

Legend sighed heavily, letting his cupped hands drop to his lap instead of holding them just before his face. “I’m not spilling my life story. And I won’t call myself jealous, because I’m _not._ I just… I used to… actually _think_ about the future, beyond just if I survive the next morning.”

Faintly, Twilight heard another cry from inside, but it had been some time since the last one—Wild’s elixir must have helped Malon. _Where was that midwife?_

“It’s hard to _stop_ thinking like that,” he said aloud. Legend let out a puff of air and nodded.

“I did stop, for a while,” he said. “But the bubble popped. I woke up. And… the only person I ever considered this kind of life with… she’s gone.”

Twilight edged closer. When Legend didn’t push him away, he tugged his pelt off and laid it over red-clad shoulders, letting the hood drape over Legend’s hair. It worked just as well as a hug, he reasoned, for someone who tended to push away human contact.

“I’ve never considered a future like that since,” said Legend quietly, the flower still cradled in his hands. “Similar, maybe—but never the same.”

 _Then_ Twilight laid an arm across his shoulders gently, letting Legend lean into him. They sat there, silently watching the shadows deepen, until Four and Talon finally appeared with a huffing-and-puffing midwife in tow. Late. Bokoblin issues, as Four explained it, gesturing to the scattered bloodstains on his tunic. Malon was inside and already along, Twilight explained, gesturing behind him. Well then, no time to waste, said the midwife. 

It was all a bit of a blur. 

None of their voices stood out to Twilight as the night dragged on. Somehow, he found himself alongside Legend as the subject of Wind’s clumsy attempts to braid hair at some point—a distraction. Wild managed to feed everyone some quick stew—stress-cooking. Four sat in silence and started tending to everyone’s swords for them—routine. Sky woke up for good, albeit a bit pale still, and let Warriors huddle under his sailcloth—comfort. 

Light, meaningless conversation was thrown around. Talon introduced himself warmly, if distractedly, and each Link returned that warmth with sympathy. Four’s whetstone scraped, making Twilight’s ears twitch. Wind eventually fell asleep under Twilight’s arm, his snores drifting through the room like lazy bees. At some point, Hyrule stumbled down the stairs, croaked out, “Everything’s fine, midwife took over” and promptly flopped right onto a surprisingly-fine-with-it Legend, asleep. 

It was early, _early_ morning when Twilight opened his eyes with a jolt, cracking his stiff neck with a wince. He’d fallen asleep sitting against the couch with Wind still in his lap, using Sky’s folded leg as a pillow. What had woken him?

Then the cry, high-pitched and distinctive, cut through the air again and he knew _precisely_ what had happened.

Twilight immediately scooped Wind up and deposited him with Warriors—both parties out cold—and got to his feet, cursing the pins and needles which had taken over his legs. Wild groggily looked up at the noise, clearly somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

“Was that…?” he mumbled, blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes. Another cry shocked him out of it. “The-!”

Twilight shushed him, gesturing to the other passed-out heroes. “I’ll go up, okay?”

Wild nodded and Twilight stepped over several pairs of legs to get to the stairs, heading up with gentle footsteps. He’d just go knock, he reasoned. No need to go in, just reminding Time that he did, in fact, have _very_ curious guests downstairs. 

Time, however, seemed to have already remembered. He was in the hallway when Twilight reached the top of the stairs, gently closing a door that Twilight vaguely remembered led to his and Malon’s shared bedroom. 

“Well?”

“Malon’s okay. Tired, and she almost broke my hand holding on to it, but she’s okay.” Time held up said hand, visibly wincing—but the wince had _nothing_ on the smile stretching across his face. Even in the dim predawn light coming through the tiny window near the ceiling, Twilight could see it clear as day. 

“We’re both too tired for you to be cryptic, old man,” he joked.

“Baby girl. I… it’s a girl,” said Time, seemingly unable to stop smiling. “She’s _perfect,_ she—you’ll meet her in the morning. _She’s perfect,_ Pup!”

Next thing Twilight knew he was wrapped in a bone-crushing hug, which he returned with equal glee. Time seemed more relaxed than he had in _months,_ the stress and tension completely gone from his demeanor (replaced now by fatigue, but that was understandable). He was almost… lighter. The worry was gone.

“Are you crying?” Twilight asked after a moment, still enjoying the hug. 

“Of course not,” said Time, sniffling. 

Twilight chose not to comment.

“I’ll tell the others that everything’s fine,” he said instead, reluctantly pulling away from the hug. “You go be with your family.”

Time affectionately ruffled his hair. “Let Talon know he can come upstairs, yeah? Everything else we can sort out when the sun’s actually up.”

“Good plan.” 

Wild had roused Legend, Wind, and Talon (and a _very_ groggy Hyrule) by the time Twilight made it back downstairs, which earned him a reproving look for interrupting people’s sleep (except in Talon’s case, since Twilight now found it much easier to tell the man to go upstairs). Hyrule, despite the bags under his eyes, apparently had questions. 

“But what do they _do?”_

“Babies, you mean?” Wind scrunched his brow. “Aryll cried a lot. And bit me. She had a really squishy face when she was a newborn.”

“So babies just kind of make noise? Sounds… interesting,” said Hyrule, frowning slightly. 

“They do more than that,” said Twilight, hurrying to insert himself into the conversation before Hyrule mistook babies for complicated noisemakers. “They’re just very small, basically helpless people, okay? You were a baby once, too.”

“I thought I just kind of came out of the woods, honestly.”

Twilight exchanged a glance with Wild and, as if possessed, they both raised their hands in perfect unison and said, “Not it.”

Wind joined half a second later, leaving Legend looking terrified. “Wait, no-“

“Not it for what?” Hyrule gained between the lot of them, eventually landing on Legend. “Guys?”

Legend let out a heavy sigh. “Come ask me when the sun’s actually up, ‘Rule—if I don’t throw Twilight out the window first.”

“You’ll have to be able to pick me up _without_ your cheating bracelets first, Vet.”

“You are _very_ lucky that I don’t feel like hearing Warriors complain about his lack of beauty sleep if I wake him up fighting you,” hissed Legend. He took a deep breath a moment later, composing himself. “How’s Malon?”

“She’s recovering just fine,” said Twilight. Seeing the looks in Legend, Wind, and Wild’s eyes, he got to the _other_ news: “It’s a girl. Time’s probably going to _combust_ at some point, he was so happy to meet her-”

A sleepy grumble from Four cut him off, and Twilight suddenly remembered that the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet. “Right. Time said we can sort everything out in the morning, so I guess we can just lay out our bedrolls on the floor somewhere and try to get some actual sleep for now.”

Wind looked ready to protest, but when the next thing out of his mouth was a yawn that nearly cracked his jaw in two, he gave in and went back to using Warriors’ scarf as a blanket. Twilight ended up setting up his own bedroll next to Wild’s (which meant he would likely wake up trapped in an iron grip, but he didn’t care) and drifted off slowly, slipping into dreamless sleep a mere few minutes later. 

—

Twilight had been right when he’d guessed that no one would be up and about before noon after the stressful night. 

(He had also been right about Wild’s unconscious cuddling, but that was just fine—Sky was experienced with getting sleepy death grips to unlock and gladly helped).

However, it was another day before anyone who wasn’t Time, Malon, Talon, or the midwife to be allowed to see the baby—disappointing for most of the Links, true, but they understood regardless (though that didn’t mean each and every one of them didn’t wait with bated breath for the moment of truth).

“I wanna see the baby!” Wind, unsurprisingly, was up and raring to go by the time the midwife was gone, practically _vibrating_ with excitement. “Come on, come on, Mr. Talon said we could go up a couple at a time-”

“Let Twilight go first,” said Sky with a sleepy grin, looking up from his woodcarving by the fireplace. Everyone else was either helping out on the farm or politely pretending to not be dying for a chance to go upstairs elsewhere, but Sky had chosen to start working on a belated gift. “That’s _his_ ancestor, after all.”

Twilight sighed, returning the smile regardless. “I’ll be quick. How’s that sound, Wind?”

“Fine. _Only_ because of what Sky said, but I’m next!”

Twilight left the room, trusting Wind and Sky not to make a mess of things (or maybe just Sky) and ascended the stairs with some trepidation. The door to Time and Malon’s room was cracked open, and when he went to knock, Talon opened it up from inside and gave Twilight a jovial grin in greeting. 

“Ah, Link said you’d be the first up—go on in, m’boy, I’m just headed downstairs if you don’t mind.”

Twilight let Talon move past him and stepped inside. He caught sight of Malon first, propped up on what was probably every spare pillow in the house. She smiled warmly and beckoned him over, patting his cheek both in greeting and as reassurance that yes, she was just fine.

“Just look at him,” she murmured, a more mischievous smile taking over her lips as she gestured to the armchair which seemed to have been dragged over to the side of the bed. Twilight hadn’t paid it much attention in the somewhat-dim room, but now he saw Time sleepily reclined with his hands folded over his chest—cradling a little bundle of blankets. “I don’t think he’d notice a squad of dancing cuccos in this room—Link, dear, you fell asleep again. Twilight’s here.”

“Hm?” Time cracked his good eye open and turned his head, exuding _tired_ in every tiny movement. The bundle resting on his chest wiggled slightly and Time shifted to look down, a look of utter _love_ spreading across his features. Clearly, he wouldn’t be devoting too much energy to conversation, not when his daughter was right there to smile at. 

“Go on,” said Malon, gesturing for Twilight to go to Time’s side of the bed. “You can hold her if you want to, dear.”

“I—I can?” Twilight stammered, suddenly nervous. _Pull yourself together, it’s just a baby. You’ve held those._

“Of _course._ You’re family too.”

“They all are,” said Time softly, clearly only half paying attention to the conversation. He shifted his hold as Twilight got closer and carefully handed over the little bundle, the trust obvious in his calm movements. 

_She’s lighter than I expected,_ Twilight thought, gently moving aside the blanket a bit so he could finally see the baby properly.

Brilliant blue eyes—but then, most babies’ eyes were blue at birth—blinked up at him from the soft brown cotton. The little tuft of fuzzy red hair was _definitely_ Malon’s, but if her eyes remained that color, Twilight could safely call them Time’s. She had the nose that Malon had congratulated him on not inheriting, which Twilight was sure would lead to some amusing lines from Time. 

_And here she is,_ he realized, watching the baby blink at him. _My ancestor. You’re pretty cute, kid._

The baby made a sleepy burbling noise and reached out with a tiny fist in Malon’s direction, so Twilight handed her over with only a _small_ pang. Time’s eye followed his daughter, but he did reach over to ruffle Twilight’s hair. 

“She really is perfect,” he said, knowing that the smile stretching across his face wouldn’t leave anytime soon. “Did you two already decide on names…?”

“Mm. Not just yet, I’ve still been getting over the last of the effects from the pain medicine,” said Malon, lovingly letting her baby wrap a tiny fist around her finger. “But I did like that one—what was it… Aria.”

Twilight could swear he’d heard a similar name somewhere—from one of Time’s stories?—but the soft look mixed with the hint of old, scarred-over grief on Time’s face told him not to pry. 

“Well, it was my idea, so I sure _hope_ you like it,” said Time, reaching out. The baby ended up in his arms again a moment later, cradled as though she were more fragile than spun sugar. “There’s my little Aria. Who’s a little sweetheart, hm? My precious little darling?”

Aria made another burbling noise, this time reaching up to try and grab at her father’s floppy bangs. Twilight was more distracted by Time actually using _baby talk._

“I know, he’s going to be _insufferable,”_ said Malon in a stage whisper. Twilight’s incredulity must have shown on his face.

“You can make fun of me now, but I know you’ll be doing the same thing soon, _honey,”_ said Time, barely glancing away from his daughter. 

Malon sighed heavily, shaking her head with a grin. “You’re lucky I’m stuck in this bed for a while, Fairy Boy.”

“That’s the only reason I can get away with teasing you.”

“Should I go get one of the others?” said Twilight, hoping that they wouldn’t start flirting in front of him. There were certain images that needed to stay _far_ from his brain. “Wind in particular really wanted to come up and see her.”

“Of course!” said Malon, brightening. “If you don’t mind, dear.”

“Not at all.”

Twilight stood to leave and made it to the door before glancing back. Time still had that open, almost dopey look on his face as he leaned over to be in Malon’s space, still cradling Aria with all the careful love he could muster. Malon reached out a hand, smoothing the tiny bit of fluff on her daughter’s head gently, lovingly, and she extended that love to the small peck planted on Time’s cheek a moment later. 

Twilight found that he was able to put aside thoughts of destinies and quests for the time being just watching the little family. They were the start of _so much—_ but for now, they were just a farmer, his wife, and their daughter, and that was more than enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll do a short epilogue for this, but I,,, uh,,, wouldn’t recommend holding your breath since I’ve got so many WIPs running. Enjoy the main story in the meantime!


End file.
